


Peanut

by Sandyclaws68



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Age Difference, Everybody loves Pidge, F/M, Female Pidge | Katie Holt, Flirting, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Male-Female Friendship, Unrequited Crushing, but maybe not?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 00:22:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7913200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandyclaws68/pseuds/Sandyclaws68
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a mission to gather intelligence on her family's whereabouts goes wrong the guys get to work on cheering Pidge up.  It doesn't go quite as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peanut

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just going to tag any one-shots I write for Shiro/Pidge as Alternate Universe because it seems a waste of word time to deal with the age difference. :D

It was all Lance's fault.

At least that was what Hunk intended to answer, even with his dying breath, if anyone asked him about The Plan.

It wasn't that the plan was stupid, or ridiculous. In fact as far as things-that-came-from-Lance's-brain went is was pretty good. The recent failed opportunity to gain any new information on the whereabouts of Sam and Matt Holt had left Pidge in a state that swung between frenetic anxiety and soul-crushing depression; a state which nearly all of them were hard-pressed to understand, let alone alleviate. So when the idea of experimenting in the kitchen to try and reproduce some of her favorite foods was brought up it seemed like a great way to bring her back to herself.

Where it all went wrong was when Lance suggested they work on one of Pidge's absolute favorites first. It wasn't an impossible suggestion, because Hunk had already figured out how to program the castle's food dispensers for things that resembled flour and sugar. But he was definitely stuck with regards to milk and eggs. Not to mention the single most important ingredient.

“How, exactly, am I supposed to figure out peanut butter with this thing?!” Hunk all but shouted, banging one fist on the front of the dispenser's main control panel.

“Come on, Hunk! We have faith in you!” Lance said, cajoling.

“Yeah, you managed to make salsa that time Lance was having a craving,” Keith put in.

Hunk scowled. “Only because that planet we were on grew something like tomatoes, even if they were a hideous turquoise color. I have yet to see anything like a peanut on any planet we've visited and peanut butter requires the damned things.”

“Well, yeah, but can't you somehow mimic it with food goo?” Lance asked, randomly pushing buttons on the kitchen's computer until Keith smacked his hand. “You did something like that when Shiro wanted ramen noodles.”

“That took me four days to figure out!” Hunk exclaimed, looking mutinous.

“So take four days again. Or longer; we're not in any sort of rush.”

Hunk growled low in his throat and looked to Keith, hoping for some support from that quarter. He was disappointed though, as the Red Paladin simply looked hopeful that Hunk would be able to figure it out. He sighed. “Okay, fine, but the two of you are in charge of keeping Pidge distracted while I figure this out. And if we miss any training sessions I'm telling Allura that it was all your -” He pointed at Lance. “ - idea. Agreed?”

Although he looked slightly frightened at the idea of being the focus of Allura's wrath Lance nodded, determined to do this good deed for his team mate.

“Good,” Hunk concluded with a smug grin. “Now get the hell out of my kitchen and let me work.”

****~**~**~**~**~****

Pidge didn't normally make her way to the kitchen outside of regular meal times, usually being much more concerned with whatever projects and experiments she had going on. But on this day she had gotten distracted by the persistent grumbling in her stomach, so she made her way from the lab in pursuit of food.

She had just rounded the corner to the hallway leading to the kitchen when she heard Lance behind her, shouting her name. He came forward at top speed, leaping past her and planting himself between her and her destination. “Lance,” she said, trying to sound pleasant but with an unmistakable warning in her voice. “Get out of my way.”

Lance grimaced. “I can't, okay. You need to be -”

A sound like a muffled explosion came from the kitchen and was followed by the most horrid, gut-twisting smell either of them had ever experienced. Pidge pressed a hand tor her nose and barely managed to gasp out “What the _quiznack_ is that?!”

Lance coughed, fighting down his gag reflex. “I think Hunk is conducting one of his cooking experiments. Probably best to not disturb him.” He grabbed hold of one of Pidge's shoulders and steered her away from the kitchen. “If you're hungry I'd say you're better off just getting some goo from the dispensers in the dining area.”

Pidge allowed herself to be pushed in the opposite direction, but not without a sidelong glance at her companion. She could tell something was up by the way Lance kept repeatedly pressing his lips together; it was a nervous habit of his that she had noticed back at the Garrison Academy. And since she had never been in the habit of letting him off lightly when it came to his hare-brained schemes she stopped and pinned him with a look. “All right, what's going on?”

“Wha. . . What? What makes you think anything is going on?” Lance asked, staring fixedly at a point on the wall past Pidge's left shoulder.

“Lance.”

He shifted nervously from one foot to the other. “It's like I said; Hunk is conducting some food experiment.” He laughed hollowly. “Come on, would I lie to you about something as stupid as that?”

“Yes, you would, if you thought it would benefit you somehow.” Pidge shifted her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose with a sigh. “But fine, you two have some little secret you want to keep from me and I don't have the time to pry it out of you right now.” She started to walk off with a wave. “But whatever the results of this food experiment are had better be good!”

Once Pidge was out of sight Lance exhaled and collapsed against the wall at his back, then hurried to the kitchen. As soon as the door slid open he was assailed by a burst of smoke and the same rancid smell. “Hunk?!”

There was coughing from the other side of the room. “Wait, don't move,” Hunk called out. There was a series of beeps, then a high-pitched whirring, and with a loud _whoosh_ the air inside the room cleared.

Hunk was on the floor with his back against a still gently smoking dispenser unit, his hair caked with some unidentifiable substance. He grimaced when Lance looked his way. “Attempt number one: failure.”

****~**~**~**~**~****

It was two days later before the kitchen was cleaned up and in any sort of condition to make another attempt. Hunk had roped Lance into helping out this time, so Keith was tasked with keeping Pidge under surveillance and doing whatever was necessary to maintain the secrecy of the project.

Of course, keeping an eye on Pidge while not getting caught himself was easier said than done.

The first day Keith didn't manage to duck out of sight fast enough when Pidge emerged from Hunk's workshop, her arms full of spare parts and a smudge of grease on her chin. She gave him a questioning look, but seemed to decide against discussing what had brought him to that part of the castle. Instead she just dumped some of the parts into his grasp. “Come on,” she said. “If you're following me for some reason I may as well get something out of it.”

Keith meekly followed her back to her quarters but quickly skipped out, saying he needed to train.

“Maybe train at hiding yourself better,” was Pidge's response.

So the next day Keith did exactly that, even climbing through the castle's duct work in his approach to the Blue Lion's hanger, where Pidge was working that day. From his hidden post he had an expansive view of the the entire space, and he was smugly congratulating himself on a job well done when something tapped his shoulder.

He froze, staring down at the hanger. He could see Pidge moving around and hear her muttering to herself, so he could tell it wasn't a hologram. He knew it wasn't any of his team mates trying to get his attention; Hunk and Lance were ensconced in the kitchen and Shiro in a meeting with Coran and the princess. So who – or more disturbingly what – was repeatedly poking him in the shoulder?

He turned his head and came face-to-face with one of Pidge's re-purposed Galra drones. Rover Mark VI, to be exact. And even though the thing didn't have eyes Keith felt like it was staring at him. Intently. The fine hairs at the back of his neck were just starting to rise when he heard Pidge call out from below.

“Either get down here and help me or leave. I don't give a crap which one you choose as long as it's one or the other.”

Four hours later Keith found himself in the kitchen, all but falling into one of the chairs that surrounded the main counter. Lance shot him a questioning look, but he just shook his head and sat on his hands to still their trembling. Pidge in a temper was, in some ways, more terrifying than a Galra fleet.

It was time to call out the big guns.

****~**~**~**~**~****

The incessant knocking on the door pulled Pidge out of the first decent sleep she had been enjoying in weeks, so it should have been understood that she would open the door with a scowl on her face. Coran managed to ignore all of that, though, wishing her a good morning in a disturbingly chipper voice.

Pidge glanced at the lights in the hallway behind Coran. They were still shining a soft dove grey, a sure sign that the castle's dawn had not yet arrived. She turned her attention to Coran with an inquiring eyebrow lift. “Morning? Are you sure?”

“Of course,” he replied, still in that annoying tone. “And a glorious morning it is!”

Pidge just sighed and scrubbed a hand through her hair. “I'll take your word for it,” she managed to say around a yawn. “So my next question would be why are you at my door on this glorious morning?”

Coran adjusted the lapels of his immaculate jacket. “Allura thought you might like to help us with some routine maintenance on the castle's systems, since you have expressed curiosity about all aspects of Altean technology.”

Although she was still tired, and irritated about being woken up so abruptly, Pidge did brighten at that thought. She had been desirous of learning more about the workings of the castle, both mechanical and technological, so this was a chance that couldn't be passed up. “I'll be ready in ten minutes!” she exclaimed, pushing Coran out the door so she could get dressed.

Barely an hour later and she was regretting her earlier excitement. They were working on the housekeeping systems; the kitchen, the bathrooms, the laundry. It was probably possible to encounter things that were more boring, but as she worked through a particularly annoying glitch in the system that fluffed pillows Pidge was hard-pressed to name what they might be.

“Isn't this thrilling?” Coran's voice came from behind her as he leaned close to watch her work. “Getting such an up-close look at the castle's fundamental comfort systems! Truly a grand day!”

Pidge managed to refrain from commenting that she could give him an up-close look at the “comfort systems” by stuffing his head in a toilet, but it was a near thing. She tried to smile, but knew it probably came across more like a grimace. It became genuine, though, when she managed to get the stupid pillow glitch ironed out. “Finally!” she sighed. “At least now everyone will get to sleep on the softest, fluffiest pillows that this castle can produce.” She exited out of that system and turned to Coran. “What's next?”

He looked from side to side, uncertain. “Humph, finished already?” he asked.

“It wasn't exactly difficult,” Pidge replied, stretching her arms above her head. “Should we check on the kitchen systems next? I know there was a big problem in there the other day.” And she really – almost desperately – wanted to get a look at those logs to try and figure out what Hunk had been doing. And why Lance had tried so hard to keep her out.

“Ki. . . kitchen?” Coran stuttered. “Oh, I don't think that's necessary.” He got to his feet and started to move out of the secondary control room they were working in. “We can move on to something more exciting, like. . . like. . .”

“Like?”

“The air filtration and circulation system!”

“Coran.” Pidge crossed her arms and gave the Altean her best intimidating glare. “Why is everyone so determined to keep an eye on me lately, and in particular keep me away from the kitchen?”

“Wha. . . what makes you think that's what we're doing?”

“Please,” Pidge snorted. “I had Lance almost forcibly keeping me away, then two days of Keith following me around, and now you doing. . . whatever this is you're doing to distract me. No doubt aided and abetted by Allura, who probably created all these problems we've been fixing.” Coran's blush told her she'd hit the nail on the head, but he resolutely kept silent. “Okay, fine. I'm going to my lab now, and I expect to be left alone. No more surveillance, no more trying to distract me, no more anything. Agreed?”

When Allura and her advisor made their way to the kitchen about two hours after lunch it was with sullen faces. “We all should have known better than to try and pull one over on Pidge,” Allura opined, watching as the others nodded in response.

“Guess there's only one thing left to do,” Hunk declared, holding up a baking sheet of perfectly golden-brown cookies.

****~**~**~**~**~****

The soft tap on the door was so hesitant that for a long moment Pidge was convinced she had imagined it. She was about to get back to work on the cloaking device upgrade when she heard it again, this time with a little more force. “Whichever one of you is bothering me this time should know that I've booby-trapped the door and unless you want to be strung up by your ankles I suggest you leave. Now.”

“Pidge, it's me. Open up. Please.”

It was Shiro. The one person who had, apparently, not gotten sucked into whatever inane scheme had been hatched by the Terrible Trio of Lance, Hunk, and Keith. Shiro, who was always on hand with kind, calming words, and an understanding presence that was enough to bring tears to her eyes. The one person on their entire team that never let the mood swings of others effect his equanimity

The one who also happened to be the object of her burning, unrequited crush.

“Seriously, what have I done to deserve this?” Pidge whispered, looking up at the ceiling as if it contained some answers. When nothing was forthcoming she sighed and moved to unlock the door. Shiro smiled as it slid open.

“You didn't really booby-trap anything, did you?”

“Hn. Maybe, maybe not.” She crossed the room and sat back down at her workbench. “Not that I would have sprung anything on you, of course.”

“I'm glad to hear it.” There was unmistakable laughter in Shiro's voice. “Now if I could just get you to stop torturing the others my life would be perfect!”

“Pfff! As if!” Pidge turned from the workbench and regarded her team mate. “Anything I do to them they richly deserve, I guarantee it!” She stopped talking when she saw the gentle smile on Shiro's face. “What's that look for?”

“Nothing,” he replied with a shake of his head. “I'm just happy to see some of the old Pidge resurfacing.” He crossed the room and leaned against the workbench beside where she sat. “We've all been pretty worried about you since. . . well, that last intel operation you were on.”

And the penny dropped at last. “Is that what everyone was doing?” she asked, feeling simultaneously pleased that they cared and stunned that they'd go to such lengths for her. “Trying to make me feel better about that failure?”

Shiro nodded and pulled a plastic wrapped bundle out of one of his pockets. “They wanted to make you one of your favorite foods to cheer you up. It took a few days – and some pretty spectacular disasters - to figure everything out.” He lifted one corner of the plastic to reveal a small pile of cookies.

Pidge gaped at the treats in Shiro's hand. “Wha. . .? Why? Why would they go to so much trouble for me?”

“Because they care about you.” He laid the cookies on the table and turned to face her, resting his hands on her shoulders. “We all care about you, Katie.”

She felt a flush climb her face. “Don't call me that,” she mumbled.

“Why not? I like it. Besides, it's better than some other nicknames I could come up with.” She glanced up and caught his grin. “I could, for instance, start calling you Peanut.”

Pidge scowled. “And I could kick you in the shin so hard your Lion would feel it,” she all but snarled.

“Really, Peanut?”

“Knock it off.”

“Or what?” he asked. Then he leaned close to her, close enough for his lips to skim over her flushed cheek. “What'll you do to me, Peanut?” he whispered in her ear.

Pidge swallowed and took a shaky breath before turning her head slightly, just enough to touch his cheek with her nose. “I'll make you eat one of those questionable peanut butter cookies,” was the whispered threat.

Shiro jerked away from her so fast it was like he had been burned, aghast at her threat. But then the corners of his eyes crinkled and his lips twitched before he burst out laughing. Pidge managed to hold her stern face for about two ticks before she joined in.

When Hunk, Keith, and Lance came by an hour or so later they could still hear an occasional laugh, interspersed with murmured conversation. Lance grinned and smugly smacked his two friends on their backs.

“I told you she'd like the cookies.”


End file.
